Harry Potter and the Book of Ages
by Margot
Summary: The threat of Voldemort has disappeared, six years after Harry's graduation from Hogwarts; however, his undying curiousity gets the better of him to unsurface a thousand-year old evil. Only it's not what you'd expect... PG13 for swearing, adult-y situatio
1. Prologue / Ants Marching

**Harry Potter and the Book of Ages** - Margot, February 21 2001

*

**Prologue**

*

To an onlooker, he was just a regular sixth year, sitting by himself in the Gryffindor Common Room, having shooed away his friends for whatever reason. He was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair, his mouth and chin hidden by his arms as all of the above were settled on the chair's matching desk, facing the fire and letting it burn away his unpleasant memories. Each of his blinks seemed slow, systematic, as if he couldn't be bothered to put the effort necessary into the act of moving his eyelids up and down. His jet black hair was ruffled, although perhaps an onlooker wouldn't have realized that it always appeared this way, and the fire's hypnotic dance was mirrored in his glasses and, further back, his intense green eyes, the colour of forests and grass and potions and snakes.

But to an onlooker, he was just a regular sixth year.

To her, he was just a regular sixth year.

His back straightened and he pulled his glasses off so he could rub his eyes. What was he feeling? He didn't know. It was something like... anger? Sadness? Disappointment? Some sort of strange guilt?

He wished he was old enough to drink, because if he could, he would. He would get himself drunk, and forget; he had brain cells that would remember this night, and wherever they were, they had to be sought out and destroyed.

But he couldn't do that, couldn't forget. She would be gone tomorrow, and this would be his last, his final memory of her.

For now.

_I like you a lot, Harry..._

She had smiled a little when she said that. He had been proud, anxious. And then, to his future dismay, she had continued.

_But you haven't even graduated yet. You still have a lot of things to do. Things to be. And so do I._

Her smile had quickly faded, to be replaced by an expression that he had only seen on her face once, that didn't suit her pretty features at all. She had been on the verge of tears, and he had to give her credit for empathy, at least.

_And tomorrow, we'll have to say goodbye._

_I really do like you._

By that point, he had been on the verge of tears himself, and he didn't want to hear anymore. He had wanted to hit her for repeating herself. But he had known then that the very idea was ridiculous; he was just frustrated. Frustrated with her, for rejecting him. Frustrated with himself, for not being good enough.

_Owl me at the Raven's Nest when you become something. And hopefully, I'll be something, too._

_Maybe then, we can become something together._

_I'm sorry._

Sorry. Ha.

He rubbed his eyes again, harder than before, as if he could somehow rub her image out of his eyes. But he knew that her image was too beautiful to be something he could so easily forget. Shiny, raven-black hair down to her shoulders, piercing, raven-black eyes... everything about her seem to relate to ravens, except her personality. Brilliant, glowing, it could not have been less black, less somber. Maybe that's what drew him to her.

Maybe that's why he would take her up on her challenge.

He would become something. And then he would owl her.

And then they could become something together.

***

**Chapter One - Ants Marching**

*

_Sigh_.

Another slow day, another unwanted opportunity to reflect on what he had become.

He was more quiet, more thoughtful. He supposed it had been natural progression, considering all that he had been through. He rememberd his mother, who had told him, "It's all right to be sad after a parent dies. It's okay to cry." Then, in a sick twist of fate, she, too, had died. Even with both parents gone, he had felt no inclination towards crying; he hadn't even been all that sad. Maybe just... quiet. And thoughtful.

He had trained to become an Auror. He had been one for three years, but still couldn't decide whether it was the best thing he had ever done or the biggest mistake of his life. He decided to go with the former; after all, being good is good and being bad is bad. At least, that's what he had been taught. At least, that's what he should have been taught.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and glanced up at the wall clock. His office was sparsely decorated: two wooden desks, a neat file cabinet, and a wall clock. Rather than hours, the clock's hands pointed at things such as "home," "filing," "raiding," "lunch," "getting fired," and so forth, indicating where he and his partner should be at that exact moment. The long hand, his hand, was currently pointing at "boredom." He hated slow days like this; hated having to think about everything that had happened to him, because it made him feel bad, and even worse, it made him feel as though he was disrespecting his parents' memory. But he had nothing else to think about. Or rather, he could think about his son, but that wasn't an option. So he simply reflected on life, minus the details his son added into the equation.

He ran his hand through his silvery blond hair. Life. So, think about it.

Life sucks.

He missed his son. His family.

That's one thing the old Draco never would have thought.

At that moment, the door creaked open and Harry Potter stuck his head in. "Malfoy, it's Friday and everything's been done for the week. Let's go."

Draco looked up earnestly into Harry's face. Harry had changed, too. Draco knew it had more to do with his various battles with the Dark Lord than it did with his sixth year romantic rejection, but he couldn't help thinking that it had contributed largely to Harry's current personality, too. He was still filled with an all-consuming curiousity but he seemed to be more intelligent about what to do with it; when it came to ambition, however, Harry was completely blind. When he set out to do something, he did it. Whatever it was.

"Malfoy, let's go! I need to get to Ron and Hermione's for dinner."

Draco leaned back in his chair. "No one's making you stay."

Harry frowned. "I can't leave until you clock out."

Draco continued to stare up into Harry's eyes. They were filled with a sense of urgency. A slight smile spread across Draco's face.

"Just give me a minute to finish what I'm doing." He held Harry's gaze. A moment passed.

"Well?"

"Yeah, I'm finishing what I'm doing."

"Which is what?"

"Nothing."

Draco's slight smile became almost unnoticeably wider as he could hear, from across the room, the quiet gritting of Harry's teeth. "Damn it, just get up."

Draco pulled a face and slowly got to his feet, pulling the coat draped on his chair up with him as he went. "All right, all right. Considering the fact that we work nine to six, and it's only five thirty, this must be an urgent, work-related meeting. Oh, wait... Weasley and Granger don't work here."

Harry cocked an eyebrow, and began to lead Draco down the hall. "I would have thought you'd be eager to get out of here as soon as possible, especially considering that today is Friday."

Draco shrugged and pulled his coat on. "Not so. Emma and Lucius are in Egypt, visiting her parents. So I don't get him tonight." He shuddered slightly at the memory of his son and... that woman. His old girlfriend. He hated the violently conflicted feelings the two of them brought up in him, even if he did care for them.

_Him_. Even if he did care for _him_.

Harry slowed his pace considerably. "Malfoy... I'm sorry-"

"Why should you be sorry? It's not your fault."

"I know, but..."

Draco smiled a bit; it was an unnatural smile, one that told whoever saw it that it hid some sort of deeper conflict underneath. Seeing it, Harry wished he hadn't said anything. "Look Potter, I know you care and all, but I don't, so can you please change the subject?"

Harry increased his pace again, and threw a glance sideways at Draco. "Sure, sorry. But, it's all right to care, you know."

Draco furrowed his brow. This wasn't the direction he wanted this conversation to take; sometimes it was downright annoying how much Potter cared. "Is it all right not to care?"

"I suppose... I wouldn't know, personally."

Draco continued to smile slightly. "Yes, well, that's your cue to shut it."

Harry kept up his pace but did not mention the subject again.

"Anyway," Draco started, anxious to clear the tension in the air. As much as he liked making Harry feel guilty, he hated when it was at his own expense. "I reckon I'm not even going to bother coming in on Monday. The past couple of weeks have been pretty slow around here, and it's annoying to check in at nine and end up doing nothing for the rest of the day. I could spend the day doing more important things, like... anything."

Harry frowned again. "Didn't you hear, a raid is scheduled for Monday at ten."

Draco nearly tripped. "What the hell? Who dropped _that_ bombshell?"

Harry struggled to hold back a grin. "Shane Alecto- you know, the nutter who was fired from the Ministry last year- sent a letter to Bridget last week saying that he's the living reincarnation of the Dark Lord and that he plans on destroying all of Europe." He gave a derisive snort. "So she dispatched some doctors from St. Mungo's, along with a couple of hit wizards, to his house and had him put away. Even though the doctors judged him officially balmy, the hit wizards found a load of instructional Dark Arts books in his house. They're sending us and a few more down to the place on Monday to confiscate everything and investigate for whatever the hit wizards missed. Didn't you hear _anything_ about that? It was all over the newspapers."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I bother reading the newspaper anymore. It's just gossip about celebrities and heartbreaking tales from the backwood wizards nowadays; hardly worth my time." He shrugged. "But I'll come."

"Without any snarky comments, I hope."

"Well, who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky."

Draco looked up and took in his surroundings. They were outside the Ministry Dark Arts company building, in the main courtyard connecting the four separate Ministry buildings: Dark Arts, Internal Affairs, Muggle Relations, and International Affairs. There was a large fire burning in the very centre of the courtyard, at which a small line of Ministry workers had queued up. Draco watched as each worker put his hand into a large barrel marked, in messy red letters, "Floo Powder," tossed what they had pulled out into the fire, and, shouting the name of their destination, followed it in, thus promptly disappearing. Travelling by Floo Powder was necessary, as the Ministry had wisely put up wards around all the buildings in their compound, keeping anyone from arriving within one kilomtre by Apparating.

Draco and Harry joined the queue. "I suppose you're just going home?"

"That's right," Draco replied simply. He didn't bother asking Harry his destination; whatever it was, he didn't particularly care.

It came time for Harry's turn. The line behind Draco and him had grown considerably with tired Ministry employees schmoozing with their co-workers and anxious to get home to their families. Draco couldn't honestly count himself among them; other than Harry, he rarely "chatted" with any of his co-workers, and he wasn't anxious to get home to his "family." Unless, of course, a leather couch, a television set, and a bottle of Ogden's could be considered family.

Harry tossed a handful of Floo Powder into the fire, and departed with a brief wave that snapped Draco back to his senses all too late. He watched as Harry's form quickly became formless and disappeared. He stared at the spot where Harry had been for a few seconds more, then, as a depressing prelude for what looked to be the beginning of the most boring weekend of his life, grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder for himself and tossed it into the fire.

***

Harry could hear the loud pop, the aftermath of flight by Floo Powder, echo in the small fireplace behind him. The horribly cramped feeling that usually accompanied a trip to Ron and Hermione's apartment was like a slap in the face and, looking out, he could see Ron seated at the kitchen table, doing paperwork. He tried to kick out the heavy fireplace screen, but realized with dismay that it had been locked into place. Despite the loud bang his boot made against the metal screen, Ron didn't look up from the table.

"Ron!" Harry shouted. Still refusing to look up, Ron shrugged Harry off with a wave. Harry gritted his teeth. "Ron, you prat!!"

Ron looked up as Hermione nearly sprinted into the kitchen and, a horrified expression quickly curtaining her face, practically tore the screen from its locked spot. "Ron, are you insane?!" she almost shrieked as she pulled Harry to his feet. Ron grinned. "Sorry Harry, but I figured you could handle yourself."

Hermione frowned and smoothed her hair back. As she had grown older, it seemed to have straightened itself naturally until now, when it was simply straight with small waves. Otherwise, however, her appearance had changed very little. Harry brushed the ashes off his cloak and gestured to Ron's paperwork, seemingly out of breath. "I guess that paperwork's more important than your best friend?"

Ron offhandedly flipped through his papers, then looked back up at Harry and Hermione. "Uh, yeah."

Harry rolled his eyes and swept the rest of the dust off. Hermione bustled to the table and began gathering Ron's papers into her arms. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?!" Ron cried, his reading glasses beginning to slide off his nose.

"Clearing the table for dinner, what does it look like? Give me that quill."

Ron pulled off his glasses and cradled his quill protectively in his arms. "Come on, Hermione, please just let me finish up that report. It's really important... er... I could get fired."

Hermione shook her head and twiddled her fingers. "Sorry, but the sympathy card won't work; I'm not your girlfriend anymore."

After a tense moment of silence, which looked more like a staredown contest between Ron and Hermione from Harry's vantagepoint, Ron sighed and slapped the quill into Hermione's waiting hand. "You just _had_ to play the girlfriend card."

Hermione smiled to herself as Ron grudgingly pushed himself to his feet and slowly trudged over to the cabinets. Ron, too, hadn't changed greatly in overall appearance; he had grown into his gangly frame and his freckles seemed to flare less awkwardly, but he still nearly towered over his two friends. If anything, only his interests had changed; over the course of the years, he had discovered an untapped talent for Divination. A realization that had, of course, surprised everyone, most of all his professors.

Hermione looked towards the fireplace. "Harry, don't just stand there, you know where the dishes are."

Harry followed Ron's pace towards the cabinets, and a knowing smile was exchanged between them. "Honestly Hermione, you're turning into my mother," Ron grinned. Hermione frowned and gritted her teeth, pulling utensils out of one of the drawers. "No, I'm not."

"Fine, you're not."

Hermione nearly threw her hands up, but at the sight of Harry and Ron making a ducking motion, quickly remembered that she had a number of sharp knives in her hand and decided against it. "So, Hermione... I'm assuming that since Ron can't cook, you made dinner."

Hermione smiled at that. "As a matter of fact, I did. It's really no big deal though. Roast chicken and potatoes."

"I'll say it's a big deal, since neither of us could even imagine making anything like that," Ron said quickly, throwing a quick glance at Harry and suddenly wishing that he hadn't said anything. Harry's expression sombered slightly. It was true that he couldn't cook for his life, and, because he lived alone, he usually ended up eating five-minute meals. Hermione seemed to notice Harry's expression. "One day, I'll come over and make you a _healthy_ dinner."

Harry laughed. "You _are_ turning into Ron's mother. But thanks."

Hermione smiled kindly and arranged everything she was holding neatly on the table.

**

"I know I should have expected it of you, but I still have to admit that I'm impressed," Harry announced loudly through mouthfuls of seasoned potatoes. The tiny kitchen table was spotted with a small number of matching dishes and dinner plates, each lined with broomsticks literally dancing around its rim. Everyone appeared to have almost completed dinner, except for Harry, ever the slow eater.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" Hermione glowed. Despite her young age, she had been quick to rise through the Ministry's Muggle Relations company and had recently been promoted to Head of the Department of Muggle-Related Laws.

"Imagine that," Ron grinned, "already more valuable to the Ministry than I am, and still living under my roof." He put on a face of mock concentration. "Tell me Hermione, why is that?

Hermione smiled gently. "Your mother asked me to keep an eye on you."

Ron stared at Hermione, all signs of a mocking expression wiped clean off his face. Hermione simply continued to smile pleasantly, and Ron coughed loudly, turning to Harry. "So anyway, speaking of girlfriends-"

Harry looked up from his plate. "We weren't talking about girlfriends."

Ron stuffed some roast chicken into his mouth. "Look, you just mentioned it now."

Hermione laughed, despite a quick glare from Harry. "Can't argue with that."

"_Anyway_," Ron resumed, quickly drawing attention back to himself, "speaking of girlfriends, have you found one for yourself yet, Harry?"

Harry set his face and mumbled quietly. "No."

Ron folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair. Hermione looked from one man to the other, and could almost see the tension beginning to rise in the air.

"Eh, why not? Sirius tells us you're a hit with the ladies in your department down in the Ministry." Ron grinned self-indulgently.

Hermione stifled a small smile, but Harry didn't seem to find it at all funny. "I guess," he muttered.

"Harry!!" Ron nearly shouted, throwing his arms up. "You're twenty-three years old, and still aren't involved with anyone. It's a damn shame, because you can't get by on your looks forever. You're getting on in years, and your looks will soon fade."

By this time, Hermione was trying to keep herself from snorting with laughter, barely able to contain herself. Harry narrowed his eyes at his friends. "First of all, it wasn't _that_ funny, Hermione-"

"Oh, I think it was," Ron grinned.

"-and second of all, you're the same age as I am and _you_ don't have a girlfriend."

"That's true," Ron began, "but... er... I have a strict beauty regimen which will ensure that I keep my youthful good looks for years to come."

Harry snorted derisively, and Hermione quickly calmed herself down. "I just haven't met the right girl yet, that's all."

Ron smiled a little. "Actually, I think you have."

Hermione quickly shot Ron a warning look. "Ron, please don't start."

"No, Hermione, I think Harry _has_ met the right girl, but he just hasn't told her yet."

Harry took a deep breath and set his fork down on the table. "I _did_ tell her. And she told me I had to 'become something'."

"So? You're something now, Harry. Owl her, ask her out to dinner or something. She told you she likes you, I'm sure she'll say yes."

Harry's hands balled into fists. "Maybe I'm just not ready yet. Maybe-"

Ron dropped his jaw in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? It's been..." he quickly counted on his fingers. "... almost seven years and you still haven't owled her yet. You're damn ready, because if you're not now, you never will be."

Harry's cheeks grew red with anger. "Look Ron-"

But whatever he wanted Ron to look at, he was never able to say. There was a loud clang from Hermione's direction as she dropped her fork on her plate.

"Damn it, Ron! You bring this up whenever the three of us get together. You already know the answer to the question constantly on your mind- Harry's only made it crystal clear every single time- so would you just stop bringing it up?!"

Ron stared, apparently unwilling to emit another word, but Harry's temper seemed to only flare more. "Is that what you think? That the answer will be the same, every time you ask?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was abruptly interrupted by an odd humming noise behind her. The trio turned to face the source of the sound; a small, bizarre-looking metal device appeared to be drifting across the countertop, propelled by its rapid vibrating. Ron got to his feet. "Well, I'm sorry to have to break up the merrymaking, but it looks like I'm needed at the Ministry." He gave Hermione a reproachful look. "That paperwork I was working on before is required, so I'm going to have to go down there and tell them why it's not done." Hermione folded her arms and looked away. "I'll see you tonight, Hermione. Harry... later." With that, he promptly snatched the odd, humming device, as well as his papers, and vanished into thin air with a pop.

There was a tense silence, until Hermione finally looked up from the floor towards Harry. "I'm sorry about that, I didn't really mean it like it came out. And Ron..." she sighed quietly. "He's just worried about you, he doesn't mean to say anything rude. It's just his way. He doesn't mean to cause trouble."

Harry drew in a deep breath, and craned his neck to face out the nearby window of Ron and Hermione's apartment. It was part of a three-storey complex, just on the edge of Hogsmeade, overlooking the rest of the two-storey buildings. The sun had already set, and tiny, glistening stars were beginning to show their faces across the near-black sky. Other than the stars, the only visible light was shining from Hogsmeade itself; from the street lamps lining Hogsmeade's stone roads, from the tiny candles in many of the windows, and from the multitude of Jack-O-Lanterns in front of The Three Broomsticks to celebrate Samhain. Not even a block away, Harry thought he could hear one bark out, "Watch where you're stepping, left-foot!" He exhaled and turned back to Hermione.

"Yeah, I know."

"We're both worried about you, I suppose. Personally, I think you deserve better than Cho Chang-" at that, she blushed slightly- "but Ron and I want you to be happy, whomever it may be with. And I'm sorry to say it, but... if you don't owl her soon, you'll miss your window of opportunity. That is, if you haven't missed it already."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "I know, I know. I just..."

"Don't know?" Hermione smiled. "Well, whenever you're ready, that's what's important. We'll support you, Ron and I. No matter how thick we seem, sometimes."

Harry smiled appreciatively as Hermione turned to gaze out the window. "It's really beautiful, isn't it? All the lights, I mean. I know most people in the village don't really celebrate Samhain anymore, but it's still nice that they honour it and all. I should really put out a couple of candles too... nobody in my family ever celebrated it, but I think Ron would appreciate it if I did."

Harry stood up. "I should probably really go anyway." Hermione quickly got to her feet.

"Sure, all right. But you know, you should really drop by tomorrow... I'll take you into the village, or something."

Harry pulled a can off the fireplace mantle, and smiled at Hermione, who grinned anxiously back. "See you." Harry gave a quick wave, and pulled a handful of Floo Powder out of the can. He replaced the can on the mantle, quickly tossed the powder into the fireplace, and followed it in. "Godric's Hollow!"

Hermione watched the fireplace for another few moments, then gave a slight smile and an absent-minded wave to the crackling fire.

***

"Malfoy? What are you doing here? It's not even nine yet... is that a bottle of Ogden's in your hand?"

Draco pulled his eyes open drearily. He was sitting straight up in his chair, his hand wrapped around a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey on his desk. Harry had just come in, and appeared... Draco blinked several times... to be dropping his coat off at his own chair. "What time is it?" Draco asked, barely coherent.

Harry paused, and looked Draco over. He had darks circles under his eyes, and his usually-brilliant silver hair seemed dull and drooping. "Eight thirty. In the _morning_. I can't believe you're pissed at eight thirty in the morning."

"Relax," Draco replied, more forcefully than he had intended. "Jeez. I'm not drunk, I'm just... knackered." He quickly stifled a yawn. "What time did you say?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Eight thirty. Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"YES I'm sure. Eight thirty you said? I guess that makes an hour and a half, then."

"Hmm? For what?"

"Since I first got here. I think it was still dark when I first arrived in the courtyard, but..." Draco suppressed another yawn, "I can't remember."

Harry moved towards Draco's desk. "Is something wrong, Malfoy?"

Draco sighed loudly. He dragged the sigh on for a lot longer than could be considered normal. "Oh... nothing more than usual, I suppose." He smiled absently, his head rolling slightly. "_Don't_ worry your pretty little head over it, all righty? I'm _fine_."

"Er... are you sure? Maybe you should get back to the manor... you're in no shape to go on the Alecto raid," Harry said uneasily, slowly seating himself at his desk.

"_Harry_, didn't you hear me? I said I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."

"All right Malfoy, but..." Harry looked up from his desk, and let out a quiet sigh at the sight that met his eyes. Draco's head had fallen forward to droop on his neck, and he was snoring quietly, his chest and head gently rising with each breath.

"Malfoy, what on earth is the matter with you?"

***

Bridget wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

She, as well as a number of other Aurors from the Department of Dark Object Disarmament, stepped carefully into Shane Alecto's tiny bungalow several kilometres out of Bristol, trying to avoid slipping on the banana peels and underwear strewn about the floor. She glanced at Harry behind her. "You know, normally I wouldn't accompany you lads to a low-risk raid such as this, but-"

"Yes, we _know_," Sean Branwen, Harry's fellow Auror, grumbled loudly in his strong Irish accent. "Yeh've heard rumours that 'Alecto's house could store an enormous selection of Dark Arts-related literature and instructional books.' See? I've got it memorized. So, I'm sure, does," and at this point he raised his voice a great level, "EV'RYBODY ELSE."

Bridget blushed a bright red, right up to the roots of her dark brown hair. "Hey... don't give me lip, I could fire you."

Sean rapidly shook his hands. "Oh, I'm shaking in me shoes!!"

Bridget coughed loudly, while the rest held back a snigger. "Come on, let's get to work. Johnson, Bones, you get the bedroom. Turpin and I will take this room here, while Potter and Branwen take the study. Remember, everything even _remotely_ suspicious must be handled with your dragon-hide gloves, and must be deposited in the dragon-hide satchels you've brought with you. The usual layer of protective anti-magic surrounding these satchels has been magnified, just in case." There was a pause, with all eyes on Bridget. She looked around at all her charges. "Well? Hop to it! Oh, Potter, stay here for a minute. Branwen, you go ahead."

Harry looked curiously at Sean, who simply shrugged and dashed away to Alecto's study. Bridget approached Harry, but couldn't help shuddering slightly at the sight of a moldy bologna sandwich on the floor nearby. "Er... Potter," she started, stumbling slightly to arrive at Harry's side, "I wanted to ask you before... is something wrong with Malfoy? He's seemed a little... unfocused in his work recently. You work closely with him; do you know why?"

Harry shook her head dismally. "Sorry Bridget... I mean, Miss Pryderi," he said quickly, "but I really have no idea what's going on with him. Just a little anxious, I suppose... you know, about his son and all. He hasn't seen him in awhile."

Bridget nodded sympathetically. "That's too bad, he's got great potential if only he'd put more heart into his work. But this has been going on for a couple of weeks, and I'm worried the situation will only worsen... while I feel for him, please let him know that if his performance doesn't improve within the next two or three weeks, I'll have to demote him."

Harry nodded, and Bridget clucked her tongue. "All right, get to work then." He turned on his heel and carefully stepped his way towards the end of the hall.

"Sean, found anything yet?" Harry asked as he entered the study. Sean was pulling random books off the shelves and allowing them to topple carelessly down into his open satchel.

"Indeed I have, young Potter. It's nearly a treasure trove of Black Practice books in here, and this room is pretty big. I say, we'll be in here at least two hours."

Harry turned to the nearest bookcase and examined the titles lining the shelves. "_The Art of Grovelling_... _The Unspeakables: Dark Creatures and Where to Find Them_... _Once in a Lifetime: Illegal Spells - Get Around Getting Life_... wow," he gaped, "this Alecto was a real nutter."

Sean laughed. "They din't call him 'Shane the Insane' for nothin', y'know. I'm heading t'wards the back, you keep covering the front," he decided aloud, proceeding towards the back of the enormous room. Harry looked it over, from the dark green ceilings down to the finely carpeted floors. Alecto's house looked tiny from the outside, but, Harry decided, this room probably utilized the same magic as wizard tents so it could be a lot larger inside. It was also, he thought, the cleanest room in the house, without a single pair of underpants or moldy macaroni bit to be seen anywhere. He proceeded to walk slowly along the length of the bookshelf, when suddenly he felt something slam into the back of his head.

"_Ouch!_" he cried out, louder than he had meant to. At the other end of the room, he could see Sean turn suddenly. "Somethin' wrong, Potter?"

"No... no, I'm fine," Harry replied achingly, rubbing the back of his head. He turned to face the floor, and noticed the source of his pain. A small, hardcover journal lay on the floor near his feet. It appeared to be a normal journal, but, as if in a trance, Harry pulled his gloves off and bent down to retrieve the book. It was bound in aged brown leather, and he spotted a number of shallow rips along the cover. In faded silver letters, he could read the word "Maj'ikus" printed across the top.

He gently ran his thumb along the journal's spine, feeling the soft leather beneath his finger. He could feel something akin to sparks rushing from the book to his hand but barely acknowledged the odd sensation as he stared intently at the cover. He moved his hand along it, in an effort to lift up the cover and read whatever the book held inside...

"Y'alright, Potter?" Harry suddenly snapped back to his senses at the sound of Sean's voice, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the tiny book. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied quickly, shoving the book into his cloak pocket. Investigations as to the purpose of the book would have to wait for later. He opened his satchel and began pulling books off the shelves into it absently, his mind still with the little journal.

***

Draco yawned. "Good morning. Back already?" he asked Harry lazily, who dropped his dragging satchel on his desk.

"Yes. The raid was a success, if you were interested-"

"I wasn't."

"- and also, it's three o'clock in the afternoon."

Draco stretched his arms. "Nothing like a good day's sleep."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure. Anyway, I'm making it your job to bring all these books up to Suzannah for magic disarmament, then down to the Boiler so they can be done away with."

Draco stood up and approached Harry's desk, eyeing the satchel greedily. "Can I get a look at them?" he asked cheerfully, pulling the satchel's top flap open. Harry smacked his hand away.

"No!" he barked angrily. Draco quickly drew his hand back. "Don't put your hands on any of them, even a single connection with the wrong book could kill you."

Draco narrowed his eyes in contempt. "Well, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black. I see that book sticking out of your pocket. Give it here-" Like a flash of lightning, Draco flung his arm forward to snatch the journal out of Harry's pocket. Alarm shot through Harry like a bullet, and he jumped back several feet and out of Draco's grasp.

"Malfoy, what the fuck is wrong with you?! Don't ever try any stunts like that again, or there'll be hell to pay!" Harry's eyes widened like a frightened animal in a cage, and without even realizing it, he found himself nearly screaming. Draco shrunk back slightly, but held an indignant expression.

"Jesus, Potter, keep your hair on."

Harry blinked and squinted, confused. "Wait... what?"

Draco frowned. "Didn't you hear yourself just now?"

"Yeah.... no... I mean, of course I heard myself. I just..." Harry dragged the back of his hand across his forehead. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his temples, and he furiously wiped them away. Draco eyed him uneasily; Harry's cheeks had suddenly flushed unnaturally red.

"Are you feeling all right, Potter? You don't look so well."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He could feel his head swimming horribly. "I think... fever..."

Draco sighed exasperatedly. "Just go back to Godric's Hollow, Potter. I'll take care of everything here."

"Thanks Malfoy, I-"

Draco grinned. "Just get out of here."

He watched Harry leave silently, then pulled the satchel off Harry's desk and slung it over his shoulder. The weight of the large bag began weighing him down, and, curious, he flipped the top of the satchel open and peered inside it. He nearly burst out laughing at the sight of some of the titles-_ Evil Conspiracies of the Twentieth Century: the Dark Lord, the Ministry of Magic, and Muggle Marketing Executives_ among them- and began walking towards the office door, still perusing the book titles, but stopped dead at the sight of one. It was a thin, dark blue notebook with fancy black letters penned across its spine: _Inner Circle Logbook - Lucius Malfoy_. Draco knew exactly what those words meant; he had stumbled across the book countless times while visiting his father in his study. Careful not to touch any other books in the satchel, he nimbly snaked his fingers to tightly grasp the edge of the notebook and pull it out. He caught his breath in his throat as he quickly flipped through the pages and neat, printed letters flew past his eyes. He didn't bother stopping at any particular page until finally he arrived at the last entry. He carefully scanned the page until his eyes met with "October 13, 2003." The words under the date seemed messier than any other entries, as if scribbled in furious haste.

_October 13, 2003  
8:24 PM_

_Received an owl from Draco today, but I have chosen not to report this particular letter to Lord Voldemort. It disturbs me greatly, and I am unsure of the consequences of showing it to the Dark Lord. Although Draco has not stated this outright, I believe he may be experiencing feelings of disloyalty towards the Dark Arts, and perhaps even feelings of sympathy for Harry Potter. Needless to say, I wish to bring Draco home immediately to investigate as to what is truly going on, but that would arouse suspicion in the Dark Lord._

_When he arrives home for the winter holidays, I will question him. Until then, I will simply wait._

Draco closed his eyes and gently shut the notebook. The last entry in his father's logbook had been doubts of his son's loyalty to his own family.

No, he shook his head furiously. No, loyalty to the Dark Arts. There is a difference between family and the Dark Arts, although he was next to positive that his father had thought them the same. The idea sent shivers down his spine, that in his last days, Lucius Malfoy had doubted his son's love for him.

And to be honest, Draco himself couldn't be sure of his feelings for his dead father. It was true: he held, and still did hold, a level of respect for his father that bordered on reverence. But if it was the same thing as love... Draco didn't know. Love for family is thinking of them constantly. Love for family is wanting to spend time with them. Love for family is being able to be honest with them, to share feelings and experiences.

Two out of three couldn't possibly be all that bad.

Draco smiled bitterly to himself. Isn't it ironic that the only person with whom he would be willing to share his feelings couldn't stand the sight of him.

***

Harry stood silently in front of the three-storey house at Godric's Hollow. It was a rather thin house, almost gangly in appearance, painted off-white with dark brown accents, although anyone who saw it had to admit that it had a certain degree of charm. It was a perfect reproduction of the house that used to stand in the same spot, before the infamous Voldemort massacre. Sirius and Remus had assisted Harry in drawing up the plans, the construction, and even insisted on taking one room to decorate exactly as Lily and James had decorated it. The sight of the living room, knowing that it was exactly how his parents had wanted it, still brought forward melancholic feelings in Harry.

He slowly crossed the stone pathway up to the door, and, with a turn of an unduplicable key, entered the lonely house. He could still feel the comforting weight of the leather-bound journal in his pockets, but made no attempts to pull it out. Feeling unusually exhausted, he made his way up the stairs to the quiet study and sat alone at the rolltop desk. He looked the desk over, then absently pulled a piece of parchment out of one of the cabinets and, to his future amazement, found himself writing a letter to the last person to whom he had ever expected himself to write a letter.

***

Cho sat in a chair in her room, alone, gazing quietly out the window at the sun setting. She smiled to herself, watching the magnificent colours of the sky bleed into each other.

Although something seemed out of place. She squinted at an odd white speck in the distance. She blinked, then suddenly widened her eyes in shock and yanked the window open.

"Hedwig?"

*

**Next Chapter:** Harry's letter and Cho's response; what in the heck is Maj'ikus anyway, and what's it doing to Harry?; Draco loses more sleep because of, what else could it _possibly_ be, nightmares. PLUS! A special guest appearance by everyone's favourite not-Malfoy badboy, Sirius Black!

**Author's Notes and Clarifications:** I think that was something of a success. ^^ I know Malfoy is a little OOC, but reasons for this should be explained within the next one or two chapters, if they haven't been clarified already. If you're curious, explanations for all the names of "made-up" characters (Bridget, Shane Alecto) can be found at [Pantheon.org][1] and/or [Babynamer.com][2]. And I promise that Malfoy is NOT an alcoholic. He just likes whiskey. A note about the year: most people go with 1992 being the year that the major characters were second years. Maybe it's not as canon-ish as some would like, but I chose to go with the year _Goblet of Fire_ was published (2000) counting backwards (1998) which makes the year Book of Ages takes place in 2009, since that makes more sense in my own mind. And also, it would make Harry and Co. the same age as me; it's nice to have literary characters to grow up with ^_^ If it bothers you all that much though, just change the years around in your mind because it's not all that important.

Never heard of Samhain? It's a Wiccan/Pagan holiday, essentially the same as Halloween. I suppose you can decide for yourself whether witches and wizards actually belong to the magick religion, but either way I felt it would be appropriate if they at least honoured the Pagan customs (it just makes sense ^^'). I purposely left it open to interpretation as to whether or not Ron himself is Wiccan/Pagan; if you like, you can interpret "I should really put out a couple of candles... I think Ron would appreciate it..." as meaning that Ron would appreciate it if Hermione honoured his religion because he himself couldn't be there, OR meaning that Ron would appreciate it if Hermione honoured the religion of his _ancestors_ because he himself couldn't be there. I hope I don't offend any Christians out there, but if you're interested in learning more about Samhain, go to [Wicca.com][3].

Thank you to the original beta readers, Nicole, Leslie, and Alex, and to Whitney and Lana for their help XD You guys are super

Well, that's pretty much it ^_^ Reviews are really, greatly appreciated, as well as suggestions for stuff you'd like to see... I won't take _all_ requests to heart, but, well, some things I'm just waiting to be asked for (Malfoy in leather, anybody?)

   [1]: http://www.pantheon.org/
   [2]: http://www.babynamer.com/
   [3]: http://www.wicca.com/



	2. Rhyme & Reason

**Harry Potter and the Book of Ages** - Margot, February 25 2001

*

Chapter Two - Rhyme & Reason

*

"Hedwig? What on earth-"

Cho's voice caught in her throat as she gripped the window ledge tightly. She could see Harry's snowy owl rocket towards her, and she quickly moved away from the window to allow it refuge in her room. Hedwig slowed her incessant flapping with a dignified hoot and settled herself on the back of Cho's chair, clutching it with her strong talons. Cho's eyes widened as she noticed the small, folded letter tied to Hedwig's leg- but of course, what else would Hedwig be doing there- and, with trembling fingers, untied it and opened it. Her eyes sped quickly across the page, taking in Harry's words at a remarkable rate.

Finally, sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and folded the letter once. Hedwig gave a curious hoot but stayed otherwise still, waiting for the woman's response. Taking another deep breath, Cho snatched a quill from her desk and quickly scribbled a response on the letter's inside flap, then carefully tied it to Hedwig's leg once more.

Hedwig chirped appreciatively and took off out the window. Cho continued to watch her until she became an invisible dot in the sky.

***

Harry gently ran his fingers up and down the spine of the tiny, leather-bound journal. He wasn't sure what kept him from opening it; some sort of ridiculous, ungrounded premonition, no doubt. He turned his hand to allow his thumb to fold over the edge of the cover, then froze, unsure of what to do. He barely noticed as Hedwig returned to the room and quietly perched atop her cage in the corner. Harry's mind felt both blank and violently conflicted at the same time, as if he were flip-flopping between making an important decision... and yet, already knew the right action to take.

Hedwig hooted anxiously in the far corner, but Harry refused to move. He inhaled gently, then, letting going of his breath, flipped back the cover of the book and shut his eyes, expecting the worst.

A moment later, he opened his eyes again- left, then right- and stared at the book.

_Well, still alive_, he thought to himself. His eyes slowly perused the first page.

_MAJ'IKUS_

_Blessed be they who hold in their hands  
This log of repute known through seas and through sands  
Renowned through heroics and famous by lore  
Our subjects were known as the Hogwarts Four  
Ravenclaw, eldest, graceful and wise  
Hufflepuff, patient and of worthy advise  
Slytherin, famous for the Machiavellian spirit  
Gryffindor the leader swore by his sword and his wit  
The four built a school to teach potions and spells  
But amongst themselves, true thoughts were hid well  
This log was published before all ties were severed  
So one could preserve their past glory forever  
With that being written, reader beware  
Of finding more than a journal in here._

Harry flipped to the next page and barely had time to read the flow of messy, black letters before a strangled smile crept across his face. Despite the bizarre nagging feeling at the back of his mind, he knew, somehow, he could feel that the journal contained some sort of wonderful gift for him. His eyes focused on the page.

Suddenly, loud and incessant shrieking could be heard from the other end of the room. Harry slammed the journal shut as alarm shot through his body. He turned in his seat to see Hedwig fluttering in the air, struggling to shake off the letter attached to her leg. Letting out an unnatural sigh, Harry stood up, quickly calmed Hedwig, and gently untied the letter.

Carrying it back to his desk, he unfolded it and allowed his eyes to skim the parchment. He completed it, quickly read it over again, and raised an eyebrow. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should be ecstatic, but his face revealed nothing except for pleasant surprise.

_Dear Harry,_

_I've been anticipating your letter for so long, I'm so relieved I finally got it. Maybe Ron's already told you, but I work with him at the Internal company for the Ministry, Department of Divination. Please pay me a visit at my office whenever you get a chance, and maybe we can talk._

_~ Cho_

Harry's eyes slowly moved from the parchment he was clutching in his fingers to the journal back on his desk. _So, she was willing to give him a chance_. He smiled a grateful smile at the journal. Again, something in the back of his mind was bothering him, telling him whatever he was feeling was wrong, contrived and not of his own will, but elsewhere, similar feelings were suppressed. What was making him feel this way? It was unnatural, somehow. He knew that, he felt it within his bones, but he couldn't bring himself to pay these nagging feelings any more heed.

These other feelings, even if they _were_ "contrived" and foreign, were comforting. Like a source of inner peace, of courage. He enjoyed them.

So he relished in them a little longer, then went to sleep.

***

_Usually he had dreams cum nightmares of something taking his son from him, almost every night, for the last three years. But this night, the dream was different._

_He was standing with three other people on a low hill overlooking a wide, open moor. A low fog was hanging in the air, but it was thin, allowing for near-normal vision. The area was completely quiet; not even the breathing of his companions could be heard._

_Finally, Draco himself broke the silence, but not with his own voice. His mind immediately caught the distinct differences between this new voice and his own; _his_ voice seemed to constantly ring with a touch of loveable skepticism- at least, that's how he thought of it- but this new, unfamiliar voice was filled with authority and command. It seemed to demand respect. Draco had only once heard that voice before, in his own father._

_"This seems like the perfect place, would you not agree?"_

_He turned, smiling, to his companions. A red-headed, pleasant-looking woman nodded in cheerful agreement. For the first time, Draco took notice of his robes. They were simple, dark green and draping. A long black cape was wrapped around his neck, made of the same soft material as his robes. The red-headed woman was dressed in identical robes to his, only hers were a light canary yellow. He turned to the tall woman standing beside her; this woman was striking, with long, straight black hair. She looked like a serious, no-nonsense sort of person, but her expression looked oddly pleased. Her robes were a deep, evening-sky blue. She nodded at Draco, and turned to the final companion, a man in dark scarlet robes with a build similar to Draco's. His hair was black and messy, and his eyes were a penetrating blue, although, at the moment, they appeared oddly cloudy._

_"I quite agree. Godric, what do you think?"_

_The man she had addressed, Godric, squinted thoughtfully and looked out over the moor. A moment passed, and he turned disconcertedly to the other three. He stared deeply in Draco's eyes, and an angry knot formed in Draco's stomach... he didn't like Godric's expression, didn't like it at all._

_"I think not. It is very wet here, and the land seems uneven."_

_"But Godric," the woman in blue began soothingly, "the fog here will prevent any curious Muggles from approaching. In addition, they would know what to expect: a murky, unsuspecting area. This place appears quite safe from roving Muggle eyes; I believe it would be the perfect location in which we can erect a private castle." She cast a wary eye towards her other two companions, and chewed her lip. "I think I need hardly remind you how suspicious the Muggles are nowadays of witches. It is important for us to find a secluded place where we can raise witches and wizards in relative peace and quiet; even with magic wards, you never know when a Muggle child will allow his curiousity to get the better of him. We three are in agreement that this is the perfect location, our long search can finally end."_

_Godric sighed, and continue to stare at Draco, his malevolent glare locked. Draco could feel Godric's stare within the very depths of his heart, but it was too difficult to read; he wasn't sure if he was sensing bitterness, contempt, or mere hostility. "Godric...?" Draco started in the same, unfamiliar voice._

_"Fine. This place is fine."_

_The two women nodded smilingly to each other, and Draco felt himself grin slightly with relief. Godric, however, remained stoic, his eyes never moving._

***

Harry slowly blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked around, disoriented and confused. It took him a moment to remember where he was, but it soon came back to him; he was in his bedroom, on his bed. For some reason, he was curled up into a tight ball above his covers. Before he could contemplate this for too long, however, a loud growl escaped from his stomach and he dragged his feet down to the kitchen to get breakfast.

The kitchen was oddly spotless for a bachelor's house. The radio on the countertop flicked itself on when Harry entered the room and the various cookbooks lining the walls drew themselves up at the sight of him, hoping that, today, one of their number would finally be put to good use. Nearby, a clock in the shape of a black cat smiled unnervingly, its eyes and tail moving back and forth in time with the clock's ticking. When Harry entered the room, it stopped and narrowed his eyes at him. "It's about time you woke up, you mangy critter!" it barked. He looked up at it with angrily, and it simply rolled its enormous plastic eyes and went back to wagging its tail in peace. Harry pulled a bowl and a box of cereal out of one of the cabinets, as well as milk from his fridge (causing the cookbooks to droop their spines sadly) and was about to eat his humble breakfast when suddenly, the sharp ringing of the telephone shook him to his senses. He dove for it and lifted the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Harry? Harry, are you all right?" came a frantic female voice.

"What? Er, I'm fine, who is this?"

"It's _Hermione_, you brainless git."

"Oh... hi, Hermione."

"Yes, hello yourself. Harry, why-"

"Hermione, why are you using the phone?"

"It's the fastest mode of communication right now, seeing as how you haven't started a fire in your fireplace yet."

"Oh. Right."

"Anyway, as I was saying, why didn't I hear from you last night? You were supposed to ring me after you got home from work. Why didn't you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Hermione, relax. It was because..." he thought hard. "Actually, I can't remember what I did last night."

There was a disbelieving pause from the other end. "You don't remember."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I'm serious, I really have no idea what happened when I got home from work last night. Oh, wait... I remember I got a letter from Cho."

There was another, longer pause from the other line, and then Harry could hear Hermione's distant voice telling someone in the background, "He got a letter from Cho!", followed by Ron's familiar loud whoop.

"Harry, that's fabulous! What did it say?"

"She said..." Harry struggled to remember. "She said she was relieved that she got the letter from me. Er, I guess I sent her a letter last night. Then she said that I should pay her a visit at the Ministry."

"Relieved? She said she was _relieved_?"

"Yeah." Harry could hear Hermione repeating his words to Ron, only this time, they were not followed by another loud cheer. Hermione soon came back to the phone.

"Well, you should pay her a visit some other day, not today. Don't want to seem desperate or anything."

Harry frowned as he heard Ron's laughter in the background.

"Yeah, all right."

"Anyway," Hermione started, changing the topic, "you were supposed to come over on Saturday so we could go into Hogsmeade together, but since you felt the need to postpone that meeting, I thought maybe you'd like to come down today, after work. The three of us can take the Floo Network back here."

"Sure, good idea. Oh, one last thing... ask Ron why he didn't tell me that he worked with Cho."

"He does? Of course I'll ask..." Harry heard Hermione's voice fade as she moved the phone speaker away from her lips, and questioned Ron. There was a pause while he answered, then Harry could distinctly hear Hermione's exasperated reply, "Oh Ron, _you're_ the brainless git."

"What did he say?"

Hermione sighed into the phone. "He shrugged stupidly- YES Ron, it was a stupid shrug- and said it was because you never asked."

Harry paused. "Tell him he's an arse."

Hermione pulled the speaker away again and repeated what Harry said, which was followed by Ron's loud laughter.

"We'll meet by the big fire in the courtyard at six, all right?"

"Sure. See you then."

"Bye," Hermione replied. Harry heard Ron shout a loud "GOODBYE!!", followed by the click of the phone being hung up. Harry replaced the receiver, polished off his breakfast, and, throwing a quick glance towards the clock, decided that he still had quite a bit of time before being due at the Ministry. Throwing open the backdoor, he went out into the garden.

By wizard standards, the garden was fairly humble with only a few exotic plants scattered about- a potato bush here, a money tree there- but Harry passed them all and followed a sporadically-placed stone path towards an large holly tree in the very back of the garden, around which several odd black and orange lights were currently buzzing.

When Voldemort had massacred the Potter house, everything had been completely destroyed, save this tree. Sirius and Remus had forbidden Harry from taking it down when he had decided to rebuild the house. Their words had proved unnecessary, however, because Harry hadn't wanted to take it down. He had heard stories that the tree was hundred of years old, planted at the same time as Hogwarts had been erected, and because of that it had some sort of thousand-year old magic within its branches. Harry wasn't sure if that was true- the idea of a tree being able to cast magic sounded more than a little strange- but a large group of fairies had found the tree somewhere down the line, and had built a small community for themselves among the branches and inside the trunk.

Harry neared the tree, and the true natures of the buzzing lights became apparent: they were several fairies who had changed their natural colours to either orange or black to celebrate Samhain. He also noticed, raising his eyebrows, that they were all female.

"Hello girls," he smiled as he approached them. The fairies instantly stopped darting about in all directions and hovered in mid-air, waving maniacally to Harry and giggling.

"Hi Harry!!"

"Don't you think it's time to go back to your normal colours now? Samhain ended a couple of days ago."

The fairies continued to giggle as they all began chattering at once. The chirping din soon lowered its volume, and Harry turned towards one of the fairies, surrounded in a shimmery black aura, leaving tiny sparkles of light wherever she flew.

"These colours are more fun! Black is really slimming, you know!"

Another fairy, slightly larger and covered in orange, spoke up. "Oh, Isis, hush up!" she cried good-naturedly. "You look fabulous in your natural colour too!!"

The first fairy, Isis, continued to giggle. "But pink is so out of style nowadays!"

"Oh, you must be joking!" the second squealed. The fairies continued their aimless prattle, and Harry rolled his eyes and stifled a laugh. _Their in-born ability to speak sentences only ending in exclamation marks is really amazing,_ he thought to himself.

One fairy, enveloped in a green aura, flew out of the fairies large mass and zoomed towards Harry, leaving behind sparkly green dust in her trail. She promptly seated herself on his shoulder. "How are you, Harry?" she asked pleasantly.

"Hi, Fallon. I'm fine."

"That's good to hear. I was a little worried about you last night."

"Oh?" Harry craned his neck to get a look at the little fairy. She was about as long as his middle finger and was quite pretty. Everything about her was green- her face, her eyes, her clothes, her hair- allowing her to blend perfectly with the leaves of the holly tree. She was looking up concernedly into his face. "Why?"

"I was flying around the front of the house yesterday afternoon when you got home. You looked really sick. Later on, I flew up to the study window and you looked really strange... like you were smiling, but you weren't happy."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Oh, well... don't worry about it," he laughed, an anxious knot forming in his stomach. Fallon smiled at him.

"All right, if you say so. Anyway, perhaps you should get ready to go to the Ministry. It's starting to get late."

He smiled weakly at her. "Yeah... yeah, right." Fallon picked herself off his shoulder, and with a brief wave, he departed for the house. She hovered in the air for several more moments, watching the house quietly, the inane chatter of the other fairies behind her drowned out by her own thoughts.

***

"So, Potter, feeling better?"

Harry looked up from his desk at Draco, who had just walked into the office. He narrowed his eyes, ignoring Draco's question. "You're late. It's already eleven."

"Ooh, good spotting."

"Did you take the books up to Suzannah yesterday like I asked?"

"Of course I did," Draco replied, "I'm a good little soldier."

"_All_ of them, right?"

Draco rolled his yes. "But of course, my Lord." Unnoticed by Harry, his eyes drifted warily towards his desk's top drawer. "If you so desire, next I will gift you with a peeled grape."

Harry got up from his desk, approaching Draco with his hand out. "No need for that. Can I get a look at the report? I'll send it off to Bridget, she'll want to see it."

Draco marched towards his desk, pulled the top drawer open and, quickly shoving his father's logbook out of sight, pulled out a few sheets of paper and obediently handed them to Harry. He skimmed over them.

"Is this it?"

Draco stared blankly. "Uh, yeah."

"No, I counted how many books I took out of there. There was one more."

Draco cast his eyes around the office. "No. Definitely not. That's it."

Harry chewed his lip. "I _know_ there was one more, I'm sure of it. You didn't go through the bag and keep one book for yourself, did you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Why are you preaching to me about stealing books? What about that journal sticking out of your pocket yesterday?"

There was a tense silence between the two as they attempted to stare each other down. Finally, Harry spoke. "Did you, or did you not, take a book out of that satchel yesterday?"

Draco kept his eyes steady on Harry, his look never faltering. "No. I. Did. Not. Take. A. Book. From. The. Bag," he said, slowly and clearly. Harry kept his eyes locked on Draco for several more seconds, then simply shrugged. "All right. I believe you," he said calmly, resuming the seat at his desk. Draco turned to his own desk breathlessly, quickly sucking in several sharp, but quiet, breaths. _That stare_...

Suddenly, the office door flew open and banged into the near wall loudly. Draco whipped around quickly. "Hello," Ron cried jovially, marching into the office. "Oh, hey Ron," Harry gave a brief wave. Draco narrowed his eyes. "Weasley, what are you doing here? You don't work in this department. You don't even work in this building."

Ron clucked his tongue at Draco. He looked slightly ruffled. "Malfoy, you're a smart one. Much smarter than I give you credit for. But in case you didn't notice in our seven years at Hogwarts, and the six years afterwards, Harry and I are friends. You know, friends? As in, ally, partner, confidant, wellwisher. And so forth."

Harry grinned up at Ron, who was smiling victoriously at Draco. Draco's eyes looked as though they were about to shoot laserbeams. "Okay, Ron, back off," Harry said, anxious to keep Draco's temper in check.

"What?! Why? I was on a roll!"

"You were," Draco muttered to himself as he rounded his desk to take a seat. "Keep it up and that's what they'll be spreading you on when I'm through with you."

"What was that, Malfoy?"

Draco threw Ron a quick plastered smile. "Nothing, Weasley."

Ron smiled and turned back to Harry. "So, Harry, can I get a look at the letter from Cho? You brought it with you, right?" Harry nodded and pulled the letter out of his cloack pocket. Ron dove for Harry's desk and greedily snatched the letter out of his waiting hand. Without even opening it, he smiled with relief. "Excellent, now I don't have to set you up with Eloise Midgeon."

Harry frowned. "You were going to do that?"

Ron shrugged, unfolding the letter. "Well, she's single and works in my department."

"Why are you acting so excited?"

Ron smiled, not noticing Draco's eyes frozen on his face. "Just happy that the long search is over, I suppose." His eyes skimmed over the letter quickly, and he chewed his lip. "I'm getting mixed messages from this. But whatever her intention is, you should still meet her."

Harry frowned. "Where?"

"She suggested her office."

Harry laughed. "Come on Ron, I'm not thick. You'd probably be listening through the door to the entire conversation."

Ron shrugged again. "Yeah, you're probably right. So what about in here? This seems like the perfect place."

Harry surveyed the office skeptically. "I don't think so, Ron. This dank, smelly office isn't exactly the best way to impress a girl." Draco immediately got to his feet and glared at Harry and Ron with a mixture of anger and horror in his expression. Harry and Ron turned to him questioningly for a minute, then back to each other.

"Harry, it's perfect. You can show her your office, you know... she'll be really impressed, this is the office of someone really important to the Ministry." Draco examined Ron's expression. He appeared slightly uneasy. Harry, on the other hand, seemed quite calm, almost strangely so. His eyes were locked fixatedly on Ron, a disarming expression on his face. There was a long, unsually tense pause. Ron fidgeted slightly.

"Fine. This office is fine."

The two continued to hold each other's gaze as if trying to challenge each other, then, suddenly, Harry got to his feet and the tension mysteriously evaporated. "Let's get together for lunch, all right? Malfoy and I have to get to a meeting in a few minutes, so I'll meet you at the cafeteria."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Sure, see you then." He gave a quick grin and left the office.

"Let's get moving." Harry moved towards the door and, dazedly, Draco followed his lead. "You all right?"

Draco nodded and, feeling unusually stressed for someone with such a liberal attitude towards his job, ran a hand through his hair. "I'm fine, other than I think I'm going mad."

***

Both the entire Department of Object Disarmament and Department of Person Disarmament had gathered outside the largest meeting room the Ministry had to offer; Harry estimated there was about eighty to ninety people altogether.

"Potter, what do you expect Sirius called the meeting for?" Sean hissed, leaning in close to Harry.

"I honestly have no idea," Harry shrugged. Sean nodded and opened his mouth to carry on speculating, but was interrupted as the doors to the meeting room were thrown open and the Aurors from both departments quickly shuffled in, heading for the closest available seats before the doors could close on them. Harry quickly seated himself close to the Head Chair, joined by Sean and Draco.

The doors closed but soon blew open again. The Aurors quickly rose obediently to their feet as Sirius Black, followed by Bridget Pryderi and another man whom Harry vaguely recognized as Head of the Department of Person Disarmament, entered the room and made their way to the head of the table, nodding at various people as they passed. Sirius smiled at Harry, who nodded mutely back. As soon as Sirius' two companions had found their seats, the rest of the Aurors quickly and quietly seated themselves. Sirius simply stood in front of the Head Chair.

"We haven't had one of these meetings in a while," Sirius started flatly, "and in that time several people have been fired and hired. So for those who don't know, I'm Sirius Black, Head of the Dark Arts company here at the Ministry. The woman to my left is Bridget Pryderi, Head of the Department of Object Disarmament, and the one to my right is Jonas O'Brien, Head of the Department of Person Disarmament." Sirius cleared his throat impatiently. "Let's get straight to the point: the past few weeks have been pretty slow around here. For some," he added as an afterthought. Murmurs of agreement and quiet chuckling ran through the room. Sirius raised a hand to silence the noise. "But I've received unconfirmed reports over the weekend that a number of dark creatures and well-known Dark Arts practitioners have been recently spotted moving through the areas surrounding Hogsmeade. Several more were seen just outside of Bristol yesterday. A small number of Aurors have been dispatched over the last few days to investigate these rumours, but none of them have found anything. However, the rumours were reported by reputable sources so I have no reason to doubt them. Bridget, Jonas, and I have been attempting to find answers to the problem of confirming these rumours; the only solution we found was to scatter small groups of you across the country, but it's best we stay together for now.

"This meeting has no real goal, except to inform all of you about these going-ons, and to tell you all to be on your guard." Sirius held up a metal device, the same one Harry had seen the night he spent at Hermione and Ron's. "Your assistants will be coming around shortly to give each of you one of these things this afternoon. They're inspired by electric Muggle devices called 'pagers,' only..." he chuckled to himself and smiled knowingly at all his charges, "the Ministry's are a little better designed. They clip easily onto your cloak. If you encounter a force you can't handle on your own, simply press this black button to call for backup. They also double as devices similar to Portkeys. If you feel it vibrate, it means your assistance is requested. Press this red button to instantly appear by the side of the Auror in trouble.

"Well, that's it. Be on the alert, all of you. Dismissed."

With that, the Aurors got to their feet and shuffled towards the exit, talking of these latest developments. Harry pushed his way over to Sirius.

"Hey, Sirius," he smiled, giving a casual wave as Sirius finished his brief conversation with Bridget and Jonas. Sirius smiled meekly at Harry. He seemed reasonably cheerful, save for the dark black circles under his eyes.

"Hi, Harry. How goes it?"

Instantly remembering the Hogwarts journal he had found at Alecto's house, the letter to Cho he couldn't remember writing and her mixed reply, Fallon's interpretation of the night he couldn't remember, and Draco's odd behaviour, he nodded and replied, "Not much, same as usual, I suppose."

Sirius scratched his chin and smiled slyly. "Something's bothering you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"That's the exact thing James used to say when a lot of things were bothering him. Those exact words, 'Not much, same as usual, I suppose'." He laughed. "You can tell me." Harry quickly cast his mind around, searching for a plausible response, when Sirius interrupted. "It's not that letter from Cho, is it?"

Harry blinked. "How did you know about that?"

Sirius grinned and began to lead Harry out of the meeting room and down the corridor. "You're not my only contact with the outside world, you know. I speak to Hermione often."

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "She probably tells you everything."

"No, not everything," Sirius replied sternly, "you underestimate how intelligent she is."

Harry scoffed. "Me? Underestimate Hermione's intelligence? I think not."

Sirius cocked his head. "Not just book smarts, Harry. Hermione's smart in other ways too; she knows when to keep her mouth shut about personal matters. On the other hand, some things, like the exploits of your love life, just beg to be shared."

Harry looked at Sirius. He kept his hair neatly trimmed now (at least, as neatly trimmed as one would expect someone like Sirius to keep it), although it had begun to gray slightly at the temples. Generally, he looked fit and healthy, although, Harry noted, even when Sirius smiled, his eyes still bore a bit of the deadened look they'd gained from Azkaban. He speculated that Sirius would never truly lose that hollow look, no matter how fulfilling his life became. After all, the irony of working against the Dark Arts for the very people that had convicted him of working for it hadn't been lost on Sirius, and every time he mentioned the phrase "Azkaban" and "Ministry of Magic" in the same sentence, Harry could still detect faint traces of bitterness.

Harry grinned, embarassed. "Oh, so what else does she tell you?"

All traces of a smile instantly evaporated from Sirius' face; his expression change to a contemplative one, albeit slightly burdened. "I reckon that's between me and her."

Harry would have continued, but the expression on Sirius' face indicated that now was not the time. "Anyway, how are things with Ariadne?" he asked, changing the topic of conversation.

Sirius smiled at that. "Marvelous. She's a wonderful woman. Work's just been a little stressful, so we haven't spent a lot of time together lately."

Harry frowned. Perhaps it was because Sirius felt that he had to prove himself capable of handling such a powerful job, but he certainly took on an awful lot of work around the Ministry, much more than necessary. Before he could worry about this for too long, however, Sirius interrupted his train of thought.

"On a not-completely different topic," Sirius started, stopping Harry just outside his office, "the Ministry is holding their annual Crystal Ball soon, and I'm supposed to extend invitations towards certain high-ranking employees." He grinned. "Let's go into your office, and you can write everything down; Draco's invited, too."

Harry led Sirius into his office. Draco was seated at his desk doing paperwork, and when the two entered, he looked up. "Oh, Sirius. Hi."

Sirius nodded. "Hello yourself, Draco. As I've told Harry already, the Ministry is holding the Crystal Ball soon, so I wanted to give you the information as both of you are invited this year."

Draco looked confused as to whether he should be proud or disheartened, but nevertheless, he pulled out a spare piece of parchment and re-dipped his quill into his inkwell. Harry quickly seated himself and followed Draco's lead.

"It's going to be held at Hogwarts; formal, of course. It starts at nine o'clock and Portkeys will be taking people back and forth between here and there all night, so don't try to Apparate anywhere near Hogwarts- obviously, you can't do that- come down here, to the courtyard. Today's the 4th, so..." Sirius thought for a moment, "it'll be in a month, on December the 5th. That's a Saturday. Got all that?"

Draco and Harry both nodded. Sirius grinned. "I'll take questions."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco quickly cut in. "Dates, are they necessary?"

"No."

"Did you invite Hermione and Ron?"

Sirius made an odd strangled noise. "Obviously Hermione's invited, since she's Head of one of the Muggle Relations departments. But Ron...." Sirius chewed his lip. Harry locked his eyes on his godfather.

"Sirius... you _have_ to invite Ron."

Sirius clucked his tongue in response. "Well, it's not that simple. You see, Ron's got a pretty low rank in the Department of Divination, so he wouldn't normally be invited. I've tried to persuade his Head of Department to give him an invitation, but she's adamant; if she gives one person with a low rank an invitation, she's got to give them to everybody else, and then the _other_ Department Heads have to give out invitations to low-ranking employees, and that's hundreds more people." He shrugged. "Frankly, I understand her position."

"Who's the Head of Department? ... oh, it's Cho, isn't it."

Sirius nodded grimly. "She's set in her position, and she's right about this, so don't hold it against her. The only way Ron can come is if someone brings him as their date."

Harry smacked his forehead. "That's bloody fantastic." He could hear Draco holding back sniggers, and suddenly, an idea popped into his head. "Hey, Malfoy..."

"Yeah? Oh, no, wait a minute-"

"Since you're not going to go with anybody, could you please take Ron?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry with a glare that could kill, or at least severely paralyze. It was Sirius' turn to stifle back laughter. "Look, Potter, I don't know what you're smoking, but-"

"_Please_? It would kill him to be left out of this when Hermione and I are going, plus you're not going with anybody. It's not as if you have to spend the night with him, you just have to RSVP for two."

"That's all well and good, but I just have one question: have you lost your mind?"

Sirius choked.

"Malfoy, come on..."

"Why can't you take him?" Draco demanded angrily.

Colour flooded into Harry's cheeks. "I'm, er, counting on going with Cho-"

"So, what about Granger? The two of them used to date, didn't they? And they're _friends_," he added savagely.

"Yeah, but he'd hate it if she asked him because he knew it would be a pity request. Plus, I don't think _she_ would be very happy about it, and it would just be really awkward... Malfoy, _please_?" Harry's eyes were pleading and desperate. Draco rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh.

"Ignoring the fact that it would still be all those things if I _did_ lug him along, I'll think about it. It's not as if I have someone else to go with. But, if I say yes- which is doubtful, so don't get your hopes up- you will owe me. Big."

Harry nodded complacently. "Of course. You have my word." He turned to Sirius and, at the sight of the man miserably failing at keeping his laughter in check, grinned widely and struggled to hold back laughter himself. "Sirius, go to lunch."

Sirius, now positively howling, wiped away the tears in his eyes and calmed himself down, still chuckling to himself. "I'm sorry, Draco, it was nothing personal." Draco narrowed his eyes at Sirius in contempt. "I'm out of here, I'll see you two later."

Harry gave a quick wave to Sirius as he left, then, glancing at his watch, got to his feet. "I'm going, too- I have to meet Ron for lunch. Want to come?"

Draco looked up at Harry, chewing his upper lip with a murderous glint in his eyes. "I hope you'll forgive me, Potter, but I don't think I can stand to look Weasley in the face right now."

***

_Another unusual dream. He couldn't understand what was causing them. Even more surprising, he played a major role in these dreams, but still felt as though he was watching from above, somehow. He supposed that was what it felt like, to know that he was dreaming._

_It was pure darkness, until the face of the woman with black hair and dark blue robes from the previous night slowly melted into his view. Her body soon followed, until it was only the two of them standing face to face in the darkness. Draco could see the expression on her face: filled with hunger, longing, desire, but he couldn't explain why. He felt his own face contort with fury, although he couldn't explain that, either. It was as though he wanted to reach out to her and touch her face, but couldn't, because he was too angry with her._

_Her eyes widened suddenly. "Salazar-!" she shrieked, before a blur of red passed between the two._

_Draco stood alone. The woman was gone._

*

**Next Chapter:** Will Harry muster up the courage to ask Cho on a date? What does he see in that skank, anyway? Harry finally gets to read some real passages from Maj'ikus; more evil creatures show up for the ride; Draco has some more scary dreams and a heightened sense of paranoia; Ginny makes a special appearance, but not how you'd expect. Two unlikely characters have a rather odd heart-to-heart. Lots of people are hiding secrets but unfortunately it will only get worse before it gets better.

**Author's Notes and Clarifications:** Okay, right, the Maj'ikus poem was _really_ crappy. No need to point that out -_-' And I'm sorry to any Ron/Draco fans I might have accidentally created, but I am definitely NOT hinting at that particular pairing. Nosiree. Not on your life. _ Also, Dave Matthews Band fans: have you noticed that both chapters have been named after lyrics in the group's songs? Hah, I'm so ingenious. I use to hate them, but now I love them x_x T'is a sick, twisted world, but the pattern shall continue I'm sure. Both "Ants Marching" and "Rhyme & Reason" are from _Under the Table and Dreaming_, but next time I'll make an effort to pick something off _Everyday_.

Okay, this ain't Dave Matthews and the Book of Ages T_T People have been telling me that it's weird that Harry has been pining for Cho for all these years. Rest assured that everything has a reason. Have a bit of faith in me. -_^ This isn't a chaos fic... well, it's a bit of a chaos fic... but the essential plot has already been planned out so everything that happens is important. Faith, baby. That's where it's at.

Thanks to the beta-readers, Alex (I can't help it, commas come in bulk ;_;), Leslie, Lana, and Suzu who I stupidly forgot to thank last time I sent you the e-mail about this chapter, didn't I? x_X And thanks to the reviewers: mxdx1 (your wish is my command ^~), Jessica (I won't spoil it for you, just keep your eyes peeled), Angelica, Claudine, Alana, hedwig, and Jade the Dragon. sapI LOVE YOU ALL/sap


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